


Scratch

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [124]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mild Painplay, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 17:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s slow and patient and steady. It drives him crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scratch

There’s this thing that she does with her nails. When she rakes them over his body and it’s the only thing she does. When he can’t see anything else and every pin prick drag is his sole focus. Sam’s got a scarf tied over his eyes and his arms stretched up above his head, holding on to the posts of their headboard. She doesn’t have to tie his wrists. He can be good. Even if she somehow manages to make him squirm and beg just dragging her nails over every inch of skin.

Jess’ weight is pinning his knees to the bed, but she’s not high enough for him to rut against her. Sharp nails tease down his chest, and it’s right on the edge of tickling. Not quite hard enough, doesn’t really hurt. But every pass of her nails works him up higher and Sam can’t help the needy little whimpers she drags out of him.

It’s slow and patient and steady. It drives him crazy.

Biting his lip, Sam huffs when she splays her fingers across his broad chest and flicks just the tip of a nail across a nipple. Jess giggles. She sits on him and tortures him with teasing and giggles at him when Sam starts to whine.

“Please, Jess, please…”

The other side now, light scrape of her nails brushing over warm skin and he’s left tingling in the wake, flick-flick, soft pads of her long fingers brushing down over his quivering belly.

“Please what?”

It does tickle when she strokes over the ridge of his hips. Sam bucks up, hard cock bouncing, squeezes his hands over the bed posts and his breath stutters when he begs, “God, please just, a little harder, you drive me crazy Jess.”

Sam gasps when she pinches a nipple and rolls it between her fingers.

“That’s the point, silly.”

Groaning, Sam tries to relax but she caresses across his chest in broad strokes, drags her nails a little harder down the ladder of his ribs leaving warm stinging trails, squeezes the breadth of her palms into the softness of his belly. Kneading. Teasing. Only a little harder for a second before she backs off again. Gentle. Steady.

Bracing her weight on his chest with her hands, Jess shuffles up. Bare thighs smooth against his, heat of her hovering over him, settling higher. Her tender hands cradle his jaw, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, fingers sliding up to sink into his hair. It’s dark behind the blindfold. Everything feels more intense. Sam breathes in five counts, holds it, breathes out three.

The clean sheets under him smell faintly of lavender and they’re soft from wear. He and Jess picked them out of a clearance bin together. The mattress is hers, most of the stuff is hers. When they moved in together Sam didn’t have much to add. The environment is soothing in it’s familiarity. He doesn’t mind being vulnerable when she’s the one in control.

Jess’ movements follow a rhythm, how she brushes across his body and works him up. Sam loses himself in it, in the feel of her hands and the scrape of her nails. Deeper, rougher, sinking in to the tops of his thighs and digging. She’s so patient, leaves a map of criss-cross scratches where she’s been. He’ll be chafing under his shirt for a few days. It’s a steady progression from feather light to painful that Sam barely notices. But it brings him out of his trance when she scratches hard enough down his chest that the burn is immediate, that he can feel blood welling to the surface.

“Fuck, Jess…”

“Too hard?”

“No. More. Please.”

She hums, soft hair brushing over his shoulders when she curls over him and places a kiss to his forehead. His nose. His cheeks and his lips.

The bed shifts under their weight as Jess adjusts. For the first time that night her hand circles around his cock, wet tight condom sliding down, she takes a few strokes before shuffling, thighs bracketing his hips, heat of her body engulfing him.

Sam’s whole chest is throbbing with a faint ache but all he can feel now is Jess sinking down on him, squeezing tight around his cock, muscles of her thighs hard against his hips. Hands braced on his chest. Nails pricking, in, release, in, Jess breathes and sighs. Sam holds on to the headboard. He trusts her.

She rides him languidly, it’s indulgent and sweet and as methodically designed to drive him crazy as the foreplay. Digging his heels in to the bed, Sam pushes up and thrusts in to her. Jess pins his chest down and sinks her nails in deep.

“Ah, ah, big boy, easy.”

“Jess, Jess.”

By the time she’s worked him over, her name is all he can say. But he can listen. Drops back to the bed with a groan and waits. She rolls her hips, bodies flush, hands stroking down his sore stomach, sore from her nails and from clenching with anticipation.

“Good boy.”

His toes curl and Sam bites his lip to keep from reacting.

The tips of her nails circle over his nipples, over and over, like her circling on his cock, around and around. She rides him until Sam’s whole body aches with the tension and he’s dripping sweat, belly so tight and chest heaving with the effort of holding back.

Her hands are an anchor, trace her path across his body as she lifts up and down, hums in satisfaction and tells him how good he is. Sam could weep for how much he needs to hear it. To feel it. She takes care of him.

The feel of warm breath ghosts across his cheek, the weight of her laying on top of him, breasts warm and heavy, Jess’ fingers spidering through his hair. Lips at his temple, the shell of his ear.

“You’ve been so good. Go ahead. Touch me.”

His hands are off the headboard post and wrapped around her shoulders in a second, spanning the width of her back, tracing down. Still in the dark, he clings to her. Brings his knees up to fuck into her body with all the restrained tension and wanting, letting it uncoil, gripping in to her hips he fucks her with every cord of his muscles and Jess screams as she seizes around him, fingers tightening in his hair, mouth latching on to his neck. Sam feels it ricochet through him, all the delicate teasing and steady build up, white hot and fierce as he buries himself in her body and lets it go.

Panting, sticky-hot, Sam can’t help the little twitches of his up, as Jess giggles in his ear and moans.

“Baby.”

Sam sighs and nuzzles her cheek. “Mm?”

Nimble fingers pluck the blindfold off. “Oh, Sam.”

“Hmm.”

He doesn’t really feel like putting effort in to talking. It’s muggy warm in their bedroom and their skin sticks together.

Jess pulls up and flops onto her side, arms still twined around him, nails pricking the skin of his back as he curls next to her. Enfolds himself around her. Brushes the hair out of her face and kisses every mole, every freckle, the bow of her pretty lips.

“I love you, Sam,” is whispered between them.

Inhaled like breath it expands through him. Sam feels light and giddy and everything is new again every time, despite the year they’ve known each other. It’s something he never thought he’d have, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever really adjust to it. But God can he try to deserve it, to cherish it.

Sighing, he kisses her shallowly and nips at her lips until she giggles again. He’ll never be tired of that sound. “I love you too.”


End file.
